


here in the ever after

by theshipshipper



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Afterlife, Drabble, F/M, Multi-POV, the starks watching over their pack even in death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-19
Updated: 2019-04-20
Packaged: 2019-05-09 03:51:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 2,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14708546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theshipshipper/pseuds/theshipshipper
Summary: Oh, for fuck's sake," Robb groaned, shaking his head as he headed warily to where his father and aunt stood lingering near the godswood. "Leave them be.""We're only watching," his father reasoned, barely turning to look at him before his eyes are on the godswood again. "They've not looked so peaceful in a while."





	1. Robb I

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tubbylita](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tubbylita/gifts).



> So, tubbylita was telling me something about Jon and Sansa visiting Ned and Lyanna's statue, respectively, in the show and it somehow turned into us joking about how they probably shipped jonsa in the afterlife. And now here's a short drabble that *vaguely* goes over that concept. 
> 
> I might turn this into a oneshot if I figure out a plot. Suggestions are welcome if you guys have any. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy it! :D

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Robb groaned, shaking his head as he headed warily to where his father and aunt stood lingering near the godswood. "Leave them be."

"We're only watching," his father reasoned, barely turning to look at him before his eyes are on the godswood again. Or, more precisely, the two people in the godswood. "They've not looked so peaceful in a while."

From where they're standing, Robb can see Jon cleaning his bastard sword as Sansa sewed next to him, sitting by the foot of the heartree.

The pair of them looks so achingly similar to his mother and father that he would've thought he's seeing from his past, but his father had never looked so contented and his mother never so comfortable in the presence of the Old Gods.

The war has wreaked havoc throughout the realm, his family, or what remains of it, at the dead center of it all. His family has lost so much, but --

He can see that they've gained so much as well.

The sight of his brother - always his brother no matter what - and his sister, together and so at ease, brings a sad smile to his lips. They have so much more to face but they can at least find strength in each other, and Robb can only be grateful for that.

"Look at them, Ned," his aunt Lyanna whispers in a tearful tone. "My son, your daughter. Who would've thought..."


	2. Catelyn I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She turns to Ned, eyes brimming with tears, and her husband gives her a soft, knowing smile. "Would you like to meet your grandson, my love?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by General+Crow's comment about how Catelyn must be feeling in chapter 1.
> 
> Hope you enjoy it!

"It's a boy, Cat," Ned tells her as soon as he's back from visiting Winterfell.

Her husband has taken a habit of visiting Winterfell to observe their family while Catelyn chose to avoid it all, the fear of seeing her children's pain and misery too much to bear.

She's supposed to be there with them, Ned too. So is Lyanna. And Robb. She and Ned were supposed to be the ones guiding them, protecting them from harm. But her sons and daughters still in the world had been left to fend for themselves.

They've endured so much suffering at the hands of enemies unbeknownst to them - but they've fought them all so bravely, so beautifully, and she could at least find solace in that.

"They've named him Robb," Ned continues, filling in the silence. "For the brother they lost. His namesake is pleased, looks very much like him, too..."

Cat could feel her lips pull up in a sad smile. She remembers the day she bore Robb as clearly as though it was only yesterday, could remember how full her heart felt the moment she laid eyes on her boy. She imagines Sansa must be feeling the same thing.

She turns to Ned, eyes brimming with tears, and her husband gives her a soft, knowing smile. "Would you like to meet your grandson, my love?"

She nods and her husband leads them to Winterfell. Her whole family is gathered in the Lord's Chamber; Arya is slumbering in the chair near the fire, bran next to her in his wheelchair. Rickon is on the corner of the bed, sucking on his thumb as he slept. At the center of the bed is Jon and Sansa, both with their backs against the headboard. Jon Snow is asleep, his arms securely around Sansa as she leaned on him for support.

Her daughter is the only one awake among them, watching her babe with soft eyes and a gentle smile as she trailed a finger through his features. It's a beautiful sight, one that fills her heart with so much joy.

On their side of the veil, everyone's watching the mother and son, too. Lyanna with her hands clutching her chest in happiness, Benjen sitting by the fireplace with Arya and Bran, and Robb, rising from where he sat next to Sansa as she approached.

"Mother," he greets with a smile. "Meet Robb Stark, second of his name and Prince of Winterfell."

Ned was right in saying that the boy looks so much like his namesake, with tufts of curly red hair atop his head and a pair of bright blue eyes that cannot yet see. She looked at Robb with a smile more genuine than any she'd given in her second life, points to the babe and then to his face again.

Robb laughed in understanding. "Aye, the babe is as beautiful as his uncle," he joked, his look of mirth turning into a soft smile. "And we all now where I got my looks."

Catelyn tries out a joyous laugh, it comes out strangled and indistinguishable, but she doesn't let that ruin her joy.

She turns to share a look with her husband and tries to convey, with no words at all, her relief and joy.

Leaving all her grief and fears behind she lets this moment signify hope. The birth of a new era.

Peace, after all their suffering.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm thinking Benjen next and if anyone else have POVs they want to see, feel free to request and I'll be more than happy to try and write it. :D


	3. Benjen I

Benjen leans over the railings, standing next to his sister as she watched the training in the yard.

"Remember when that was us?" He asked, smiling as Arya swiftly deflected an attact from Jon.

"You mean when I kicked your arse to the dirt?" Lyanna smirked, treating him like a little boy still, even after all these years. "I remember it well."

He grinned. It feels as though he's back to those years when time was simpler - before everything turned to shit.

He was a boy of two-and-ten, almost a man grown but not quite yet. He hadn't known of war yet, nor the fact that his family would be at the center of it. So much has happened since and so much will still come to pass.

Winterfell stands strong once more, its people had suffered so much loss yet still provides the keep with so much life and warmth.

There's a certain kind of relief in knowing that his death had ensured that his family would continue on; that Jon and Sansa could find a home in each other as they rebuilt Winterfell with all that chaos around them feels like a gift.

And now they have peace, but they wouldn't have had to fight so hard for it if things went as it should have, long ago before their time.

"I should've..." Benjen took a deep breath, breathing life into words he never thought he'd say out loud. "I should've stopped you. Or broken my oath to keep your secret, at least." Benjen looked down, guilt that he's been keeping since his youth now coming to surface. "If I'd told father, or even Brandon... then maybe none of it would've happened. They'd still be alive."

"Ben, don't blame yourself," Lya put an arm around him in a bid to give him comfort. "If there's anyone to blame... it's me. I was silly girl who chased after a foolish dream."

Benjen turned to look at his sister and sees so much guilt and regret there.

She gives him a sad smile. "I was your older sister, I should've known better than to burden you with all that I did." She took a deep breath. "For that, I'm sorry."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> somehow it took me so long to write this hahaha smh


	4. Rickard I

Rickard took the final steps out of the crypts hesitantly, frowning as soon as the sunlight hit his face.

He hadn't wandered out to see what has become of his home since he'd died; he'd stayed in the crypts, among his forefathers with their own guilt keeping them tied to the earth beneath them.

Rickard had forgotten just how much time had passed; he's spent all his time in his dwelling that it feels strange in this new world.

"Eddard," he calls after his son, just moments before his form disappears into the Godswood.

Ned turned, evidently surprised as to why, after all this time, he'd finally chosen to face reality.

He'd avoided it, really. Avoided seeing what has come of the chaos he'd played a part in making. Foolish Southern ambitions that only brought him his and his family's demise.

People did always know what happens to those who plays the game of thrones; you win or you die.

He catches up to Ned, ready to see for himself the home he's always known and the people that now cares for it. "May I meet your children?"

He'd heard about them from Lyanna, the only one before Ned who ventured onto the life above them at all.

Always been the wildest of the pups, that one.

"Of course, father," Ned gives him a soft smile, angling towards the Godswood. "Shall we?"

Rickard's surprised to hear the laughter even before he sees them; there's six of them of there, a man, dark-haired, brooding, so much like his Ned. A woman sits next to him, carrying a child in her arms. She's beautiful and looks almost exactly the same as Catelyn Tully on the day he saw the child in Riverrun.

Close by is another boy, young and sitting atop some sort of wheeled chair, watching the other two, a girl, wild like Lyanna and another little one who looks like his other grandson, Robb, as they chased each other around with a wooden sword.

He's able to identify them solely from his daughter's description of them; Jon, Sansa, Bran, Arya and Rickon. The last surviving Starks.

He turned to his son then, a sad smile to his lips as he thought of what he'd always wanted to say whenever Lyanna told him tales of how well Ned has been doing since Robert's rebellion.

"I know you never wanted to take on my responsibilities as Lord of Winterfell, and that you'd always been glad that it was Brandon who takes the burden after me, but you have done so well, my son."

Ned looked down, disbelieving. "I always tried to do what honor demanded of me. I thought if I did what is just then I would keep my family safe." He sighed. "In the end it was my own foolish mistakes that brought them their sufferings."

Rickard pattef him on the back. "A father is also just a man, Ned," Rickard reminds him. "We can never truly protect our children, we can only ever hope we have given them enough tools to survive us."


	5. Lyanna I

Lyanna decided to visit the nursery just as his son is trying to get little Robb to fall asleep.

In the years that she’s been dead, opportunities like these - moments alone with her son - have come often enough.

But still she longs to touch him; to care for him as mothers should.

Of everyone, she owes so much to him.

She brought him into this world and left him to fend for himself. It’s one of her many failing that she may never come to forgive herself for, but she’s glad it did not all go wrong.

Where she has failed, her brother has succeeded. And for that, she’s grateful.

“ _Promise me, Ned,_ ” she’d begged on her death bed.

Now his son is a man grown with a child of his own.

“Hey there,” Jon says softly, and Lyanna thought for a moment that he was talking to her. “Hello little wolf,” he says again and this time she sees her grandson open his eyes. “Hello. You’re not tired, are you?”

The babe makes indistinguishable sounds, staring at his father with his big blue eyes. Jon continues talking to his son as though the babe understands until he’s lulled into sleep. 

The sight of it makes her heart leap. This is the kind of life she wished for his son; she’s glad to see it done.

Lyanna feels another presence not long after. She turns to see Sansa approach sleepily, a lazy smile on her lips.

“There you are.” Sansa wrapped her arms around Jon’s side. “My boys.”

Jon leans in, pressing a kiss to her temple. “My wife.”

The word makes Sansa smile brighter. Lyanna thinks it is adorable how just the word can still make her smile no matter how long they’ve been married.

To others, this is nothing more than a political match; a solution to what would’ve otherwise been another dark time for the realm.

But Lyanna can see that it is more than that.

And she’s grateful for it.

After everything, they both deserve all the joy and happiness they bring each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic can honestly go forever so if you guys have suggestions/requests, feel free to send them. 
> 
> (I have about 4 requests that I’m gonna get to soon, just in case anyone thought I forgot pending prompts.)
> 
> Anyway leave a comment if you want me to write something specific so I remember when I check back.
> 
> Thank you! :D


	6. Brandon I

If things had gone right, Brandon would’ve been the Lord of Winterfell.

If that had been the case, no war would have befallen his family and the North would have kept living in peace. He would have wed Catelyn Tully in Riverrun and his brother would have wed Ashara Dayne in Starfall.

He turned to his side, catching sight of Cat as Ned reveled her with tales of his visit to Winterfell. The years they’ve spent together is evident just by the way they regarded each other; with love.

She would’ve been his, Brandon thought. Her children could’ve been his, with their Tully red hair and eyes. He could have had that.

He looked down, trying to erase all this regret.

It could have been his life once. But he’ll have to accept that maybe this kind of life was never meant for him.

His brother had done so much more than he could have hoped to do himself; though unprepared for the task ahead of him, Ned proved to have been the man for the job, and his children after him.

If what Brandon’s heard about Ned’s children was right, about them surviving through the chaos imposed upon them and setting the realm to rights, he supposed that should be enough.


	7. Ned I

His children comes into the Godswood often, Ned would be proud to say.

When they were younger, most of them were partial to the Seven, their mother’s gods, but overtime they’ve found their peace with the Old Gods as he had, and he can only be glad for it.

Today Sansa is the one he finds there, whose visit to the godswood came as frequent as Jon’s..

She sits atop the old log thoughtfully, her gaze locked on the lake in front of her.

The Queen in the North and Lady of Winterfell, the people has named her so. It took a long and harsh road to get there and he can only imagine the horrors his daughter had faced throughout it all.

He’s to blame for her sufferings, he knows it to be true. Him and his desire to keep her from ever knowing the horrible realities of the world.

It was a foolish dream: he was her father and it was his duty to prepare her for the world. Yet she’s had to find out on her own and navigate such a cruel world with very little means.

That she’d survived it all and now stands as the woman she is brings Ned some relief, though it does not erase the fact that out of all his children, he has failed her most.

The sound of leaves crunching takes both Ned and Sansa’s attention, turning to the entryway of the Godswood.

If Ned had not been looking, he’s sure he would have been able to guess who it is, if only by Sansa’s smile.

His daughter, while once the most gracious with her smiles, has become a mask of steel in her older years. Her true smiles only appear whenever her gaze lands on her family, but even those seem pained. As though she can never quite forget the family lost to her while looking at the living.

It’s different when she smiles at Jon. There’s a certain kind of softness there, a certain kind of love. It’s reminiscent of the smiles that used to adorn her face whenever she got lost in her fairytales.

“My Love,” Jon greets her softly, pressing a kiss to her forehead before he kneels in front of her. “Is something troubling you?”

Sansa shakes her head. “I was just thinking of Father.” Jon quirks his head sideways, waiting for her to go on. “He’d once promised to find me someone brave… ” Her hand comes up to his cheek, caressing him. “Someone brave, gentle and strong.” She presses her lips to Jon’s forehead, the action so gentle it’s almost heartbreaking. “I’m not sure Father even knew it then, but he gave me you.”

Jon’s lip quirk up in a teasing smile as he pressed a kiss to her hand. “Then I shall forever be grateful.”

“I came to see the Maester today.” She mirrors his smile, taking hold of his hand before she directs it toward her stomach.

No more words pass between them, they only stare at each other, their smiles growing as the promise of the future grows brighter with yet another new life within her.

 


End file.
